Extraneous Thoughts
by ScoreCounter
Summary: Sherlock gets bored, that's for definite. But, sometimes, he delves into the world of video games for a little... inspiration. {I Own Nothing, Slight References to Mature themes}
1. John, It Was The Victim!

"**John, It Was The Victim!" – Sherlock – The Mystery of the Cluedo Board**

**Ace Attorney Parody**

"Sherlock!" John yelled. "Look, I know you haven't had a case in three days, but there is no need to take it out on the wall!"

Once more, Sherlock had started to get "Bored!" and thought it was apt to steal John's revolver again. "Bored!" By this point, the wall had seemed to have sustained about 25 bullet holes.

"It's a wonder the flat is still standing!" John ran over and pulled the revolver out of his grip. "Oh come on, there is no need to look at me like a five year old!" Sherlock looked kind of upset about having his favourite toy taken away.

"John, give… me … a… CASE! Murder someone if you- no, don't do that." John sighed again. It was strange though. After Christmas, the force seemed to be able to handle themselves.

"Look, I'm going to fetch a cuppa. Just- don't hurt yourself… or the flat."

Just as he was doing so, Mrs Hudson turned up. Whispering she said, "I heard the shooting… maybe we should TRY to do something…" 10 minutes later, she came back up from downstairs. "I got this for Christmas… I don't know why, but maybe…"

"Mrs Hudson that might actually work…"

And so it came to be, that Mrs Hudson, John, and Sherlock were gathered around a table to discuss the most grave of incidents- a murder most foul, most crooked… Ok, they were playing… Cluedo.

"What is the… point, of this, John? I don't see how this is supposed to…"

"Sherlock… just try to figure out who killed Dr. Black, will you!" Mrs Hudson was Colonel Mustard, John was Professor Plum, and Sherlock had decided to be Reverend Green. Sherlock immediately examined his hand- he knew it wasn't Miss Scarlet, wasn't done with…" A candlestick? Improbable. What did they do, burn themselves?!"

Sherlock whispered quietly to himself, so no others can hear. And finally, it wasn't in the kitchen (They decided to use 4 of everything… for the first play – after all, Sherlock DIDN'T read the rules, despite many arguments). He was to roll first… "It's… a one? Well, that's useful!"

Duly, he made his move- If you could call it that.

Then, Sherlock realised something- they didn't know the murder weapon, so they can't have seen the victim, meaning they were in a locked room…

"John, I know the murderer."

"What." To be honest, the whole world would echo the same thought. Minutes passed, before Mrs Hudson was ready to roll-

"What?! Don't you want to hear my thoughts?"

"Sherlock, you will be wrong. Ok then. Enlighten me."

"John, **IT WAS THE VICTIM!"**

John sighed. "Oh my god, this actually WASN'T a good idea. Sherlock, how could the victim have done it?"

"It's quite simple actually. The victim was murdered by, what I understand, one of vastly different weapons. However, we cannot distinguish which by looking at the victim. As such, we are not able to see the victim." He was talking at 1000 words per minute… again.

John piped up. "OBJECTION!" he yelled. "We could see the victim because we could see he is Dr. Black!"

Now it was Sherlock's turn to sigh. "Fine, I'll play along."

"Good."

"OBJECTION!" Evidently, Sherlock wasn't on about Cluedo. "We could have identified the victim from his absence!" He paused.

"Wait a minute… I object to myself! He has been murdered, so we must have seen the body! Therefore this game is not right!"

"OBJECTION!" Then how can we tell that it is not the weapon card we have!"

"OBJEC-"

A hammering noise started. Out of nowhere, Mrs Hudson had produced a gavel. "Order! Order in the living room!"

John released a long breath of air. "Yes… Your Honour."

"You have both been playing that game far too much."

Now, Sherlock decided to give his opinion. "So? Besides, I think Miles Edgeworth is one of the… more intelligent characters I have seen in one of these "Games"."

"And he loses to Phoenix all the time."

"That is not intelligence. That's luck. And poker."

"Anyway, back to Cluedo. The victim killing himself is not in the (closed) instruction book!"

The rant continued for hours with OBJECTION!'S and HOLD IT!'S.

Then, Mrs Hudson had apparently had enough. "Mr Sherlock Homes, for the crime of keeping the neighbours awake, you are found GUILTY! "At this point John ceremonially stuck a knife into the wall… through the Cluedo board. We know what happens from there.

"John, fetch me my revolver."

"MY revolver."

And only one question left standing… If Sherlock is Miles, and John Phoenix…

Does that make Mycroft Franziska?


	2. Recrational Drugs Not Nessersary

_**Recreational Drugs Not Included, Nor Necessary**_

It was no secret that Sherlock had problems with all sorts of drugs. But, obviously, all drugs can only go so far before they become- ineffective, so to speak. And something stronger is, naturally, at this point, required. With one such as Sherlock Holmes, this becomes particularly egregious. So, therefore, John was shocked that this particular `drug` was working so well. And, in case the inverted commas didn't spell it out for you, this wasn't really – at all, classifiable as a drug. Perhaps it fed into his sadism a little – It was a little cruel in a funny way, and… well, if anything, it was absolutely bonkers. And, John supposed, that in a way, it was something that took precise planning if you decided to extrude it enough. So, it was the best of both worlds – whilst the severe -weirdness of the entire thing did a job in killing the brain cells, the remaining ones were successfully kept continually maintained by the detail in the order of which he had to do things.

John was, in a way, thankful for the reduction in drugs, but it came to the new side effects… slightly irritating to say the least. Random humming, for one. They would be sitting there, in the quiet, just randomly thinking upon a random case, and all of a sudden, he'd randomly start humming – and, because John couldn't bring himself to ask him to stop, but then it would continue and then abruptly stop.

There were then the random thoughts that popped into Sherlock's head whenever he was out and about on a case. Or, especially after a case. When a particularly large case in which he had a lot of `stuff` lying around, he'd randomly take a small ball, cover it in mildly strong adhesive,, and use it to collect everything together. And then chuck it into a bin. At least he hadn't gotten as far as a rainbow bin yet.

Any of you getting it yet? Perhaps, and perhaps not, I suppose.

Whenever Sherlock walked around, he didn't simply walk either. You could see it in his eyes, flickering from one object to another. Comparing them exactly, particularly in terms of size, thinking how he would best approach the set problem into the real world. Often walking into a lamppost when doing so.

But, none of it outweighed the skyrocketing stress levels from Sherlock's mood swings. And, John had to admit, in his off-hours, having an attempt was quite… relaxing and enjoyable. And Sherlock seemed to enjoy the thing even more, trying to out predict where John was going to do. Never mind what the `humans` were going to do themselves.

John did find himself in a peculiar predicament indeed. Especially when:  
"John, mine's bigger than yours." John didn't think of himself as a dirty person, but he had to admit, anyone would misconstrue that. Then again, due to the slight distraction of laughter, maybe that was the point. All of a sudden, Sherlock bashed into John, causing him to lose quite a bit of weight.  
"Slightly… cliché, for you."  
"What can I say? It works, doesn't it?"  
And, at the end of the day, John had to admit –

Katamari was a lot of fun.


End file.
